Strange Wind

I was alone on an open field,
lost among impossible possibilities
when approached from the horizon
a strange blow caressed my face.

Cold gusts, punctuated by solitude,
sprinkling me with a serene drizzle,
carrying scents of earth, ashes, and salt,
the silence of all the songs I've ever sung.

Names and faces torn apart by the mists of time.
I was naked and surrendered,
but the wind would also carry me away,
whipping at the doors and windows
that had remained closed
in the small gaps between the days.

Through the empty street corners,
in the still silence of the night,
the wind would also whistle away my name.

Impermanence is the totality of all things.